A Measure Of Time
by Ceasefire
Summary: [JeanRoy, EdRiza, manga AU, spoilers] The battle is over. Roy is Fuhrer, Jean is recovering, Riza wants Ed to stay in Central, and Ed wants to go home. Rumors of new criminal organization that is intent on dethroning the new Fuhrer are spreading.
1. Time Measured By Perfection

This is a prologue to a much longer fic I'm writing. It's already two thousand words and growing for the next part, so you can expect it very soon. I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

**-x-**

It had been a while since Roy Mustang had found himself in a mood this good. In retrospect, it had also been a fair amount of time since he'd found himself to be so nervous about something so blatantly trivial. Compared to what he'd done, and what he'd seen, this was something to look forward to, certainly something to appreciate and remember.

He had confided his feelings as such to Captain Hawkeye; she had muffled soft laughter behind her hand and insisted that there was nothing that could possibly be worse than what they had all faced over the past few years. Mustang couldn't safely say that he had thought of it from a comparative perspective, and upon reflection he found it to be superfluous anyway, because the suffering he had endured over the past few years was vanishing like smoke against a brighter dawn.

He was still nervous, and his fingers shook as he looped the buttons on his shirt through the buttonholes one by one, carefully, using the very tip of his thumb and smoothing the hemline down after each motion caused the material to lie crooked.

There was really too much good happening today to allow room for imperfection, in his humble opinion. There had been minor delays, little things that had annoyed him but not yet ruined the constant underlying mood of the day; there had been an hour's delay in train times that had thrown out his plans, but barely, and the final result regardless of lateness or measures of time was undoubtedly something to cherish. Hawkeye had managed to convince Fullmetal to come up from his hometown, and Mustang wasn't entirely sure whether that was a curse or a blessing in disguise at first, but it seemed to make his adjutant smile a little more than was normal so he decided to grin and bear it regardless of the circumstance that resulted.

He grabbed his jacket off the back of the single wooden chair at his table, and swiped irritably at a few flecks of dust that had settled on the stars on the shoulder overnight. Watching the slight smears that doing this had caused appear on the otherwise flawless stars made him grow to be irritated with himself, and he breathed on the buttons and then rubbed at them with the cuff of his dress shirt to return them to pristine condition. He sat down on the bed, meticulously smoothing down his uniform pants with bare hands as he did so, and grabbed his boots, being careful to lace them evenly and to tie the knot tight enough to last the whole day. Once he was done with that slightly tedious task (thanks to whoever had decided that the boots needed to be laced through ten times; he'd have to change that) he moved over to the small dresser next to his bed and grabbed the final two things that would make the uniform flawless; the formal hat, complete with the polished emblem of the Amestris (the last time he'd bothered to wear it, the occasion have been far more bleak) and the Pyrotex gloves he used to perform his Flame Alchemy.

Feeling more confident in himself since he'd first heard the two pieces of news that would change his life barely four days ago, he smoothed his hair out of his eyes and put the hat on, and tucked his gloves safely into his pocket just as he heard a sharp knock at the door. He walked through his small apartment, wondering how the Hell he could ever muster the room for another tenant, and opened the front door to reveal Lieutenant Hawkeye in the official female formal uniform, and the Fullmetal Alchemist standing awkwardly the uniform two paces behind her.

"Good morning, Sir," she greeted Mustang.

"Good morning, Captain. I see you have already been to pick up Fullmetal from the train station."

"Yes, I'm afraid we're going to have to go back there thanks to the delay in the train times."

"No problem, no problem," Roy replied, now directing his smirk at Edward, "I didn't expect that you would come all the way from Rizenbul for this, Fullmetal."

"Don't think I'm here to see your smug face again," Ed grumbled, "I'm not going to enjoy watching you have your ego stroked."

"I don't know why else you would want to travel all of those hundreds of miles," Mustang yawned.

"Let's make this very clear: I'm not here for you," Ed snapped. Hawkeye allowed herself a small smile that was quickly hidden as her superior faced her again.

"Well, shall we be going?"

His adjutant saluted and stepped out of the way to let him through and did not miss the suppressed happiness in his voice. Barely finding himself able to concentrate on anything other than where they were headed, Mustang headed down the three flights of stairs to the street, slightly unnerved by the clicking of Edward's boots in the otherwise silent stairwell.

All the way to Central Train station, Edward kept opening his mouth as if to say something, but whatever he was thinking never seemed to have the will to make itself heard, and the car trip was made in relative silence. Mustang wasn't sure whether Edward was just rethinking what he was thinking before he actually said it, or whether Hawkeye was intervening in some way, but either way he was extremely thankful for the quiet.

They arrived at the station quicker than he anticipated, and out of habit he reached into his pocket for the silver watch that certified him as a State Alchemist and flipped it open; it was still ten minutes until the train was scheduled to arrive but there was an irreversible will in his mind to be there when the train pulled in so he excused himself to both Edward and Hawkeye and stepped out of the car. If either Fullmetal or his adjutant started speaking he wasn't able to hear it; he wasn't sure that he would have paid enough attention to hear it even if Edward had been talking as loudly as he did whenever someone took a stab at his height.

Feeling self-conscious in his uniform, the stars on his shoulder being too many in number to denote anyone but someone important, Roy wasted the ten minutes until the train arrived by watching the seconds and minutes tick down on his pocket watch so constantly it was nearly unnerving. He was so rapt in watching the red seconds hand circling the watch face that he jumped when the announcement came over that the delayed train from East City was pulling into the station.

He stood, not so quickly as to catch attention, he hoped, and watched the carriages click by one by one with dark eyes until the train had come to a complete stop. Watching all the passengers file out and into the arms of loved ones did not particularly appeal to his emotions; mainly because the one person he was looking for was not among them, and suddenly he felt jealous that these people took the simplicity of running to embrace one they had missed for granted.

Mustang waited until all the other passengers were gone, until finally it seemed to have occurred to the station staff that extra assistance was required to get their last passenger off the train. With his heart lodged firmly in his throat, he watched as Jean Havoc moved his wheelchair to the edge of the carriage door carefully and then stood ( I stood /I , albeit slowly and with such major assistance from the station staff) while his wheelchair was lifted down from the carriage and safely to the platform. Unable to hide his grin at finding that Marcoh had indeed done his job, Roy hurried over and before Havoc could barely realize who it was standing in front of him, swooped down and pressed his lips against the younger blond man's with all of the want and pain of two years separation.

Breaking away and leaving himself ample room to breathe, Mustang murmured against stunned, parted lips, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Boss," Havoc grinned, recovering from his surprise and reaching out to take Roy's hand, "But we should get going, otherwise you're going to be late and Hawkeye's gonna tear a strip off me if that happens."

"Right," Roy replied, a small smile still upon his lips, "Let's go."

"Let's go get you sworn in, Fuhrer Mustang," the blond teased, and Mustang batted ineffectually at the back of the blond's head as they moved back towards where Fullmetal and Hawkeye were waiting together.

Indeed, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so whole.

**To be continued...**


	2. Pressed Between Pages

It's interesting, writing these two relationships in their current states; one that is currently desperate from two years apart and yet they're as dorky and teasing as they ever were, and one that's barely commenced as yet aside from the certain realization that the feeling is romantic and mutual yet they seem to connect so entirely well.

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

After all of the lonely nights away from Roy, coming back to the simple apartment was like something entirely new. Still dark, still cheap, still low maintenance; perhaps that was how Roy had always planned to have things, even from the very beginning of his military career. The décor was the same; in fact, the only thing that had changed was that there now seemed to be many more stairs leading up to it than before. With one hand on the railing and the other around Roy, Jean had then realized that the biggest change was probably in Roy himself and were most likely inspired by the events of the day. The blond had made his way up the stairwell carefully, all the while trying to ignore Roy's soft grunts as he did his best to help. Jean didn't really have the heart to tell him that he wouldn't have been much faster with crutches; he'd been able to use them back in his hometown to do little things, but it had tired him out pretty quickly when compared to using his chair. He'd have to go to Central Hospital sometime to hire out a new set and get them fitted, but for now he found himself not minding the closeness. Every time he _felt_ Roy's knees bump into the back of his legs, the older man unaccustomed to the way he had to hold his blond lover steady, Jean felt far more happiness than annoyance, more excitement than regret.

As they reached the third floor landing, Roy glanced up and sighed.

"Flowers again…" the older man murmured, almost tripping over when he attempted to shift the carefully wrapped bunches out of the way with his foot.

"They're just appreciative of what you did, you know," Jean grinned, reaching around with his spare hand to grab Roy's keys out of his pocket, "And you did get sworn in as Fuhrer today, after all. People are going to be showing you their exact sentiments about your appointment for the next few weeks, at least."

"So long as their sentiments don't involve eerily ticking packages left on my doorstep."

Jean somehow doubted that it was a good time to leave his hand lingering on the older man's thigh through the material, so he put all of his attentions into putting the key in the lock while Roy wobbled precariously under the added mass. He moved again, and Roy grunted under the strain of the shifted weight, but refused to turn his anger upon Jean, regardless of how annoyed he may have felt.

"Got it," Jean breathed, "You don't have to support me all the time, you know... I could have done that for myself for that long."

"It's not so much that I want to support you so much as I don't want to let you go."

"Regular Mister Smooth, aren't you?" Jean grinned, unable to keep the affection out of his voice.

"I try," Roy replied, kicking the apartment door open.

"Don't make any jokes about carrying me over the threshold."

"How could I possibly resist that?" Roy snorted sarcastically, letting Jean go when the blond squirmed away to sit on one of the outdated armchairs in the living room, "I'll go downstairs and get your chair out of the taxi and then I'll grab the luggage."

"Knock yourself out," Jean grinned. Once Roy had disappeared around the doorframe, Jean took in his surroundings and found with some surprise that it felt like home. His gaze was drawn to the bunch of pure white gardenias on the coffee table; they were being held by a small glass vase that looked too ornate for Roy to have purchased himself (perhaps an heirloom, or a gift from a colleague?), and one of the stalks had a small card tied around it with plain white twine.

_Dear Fuhrer Mustang,_

We got you a box of chocolates to celebrate, but Hayate ate them (according to Breda; the evidence suggested otherwise). We know you've probably got enough flowers to start up a florist already but this will have to do.

From Lieutenant Breda, Sergeant Fuery and Warrant Officer Falman.

Yes, it definitely felt like home. Sitting back in the chair, Jean felt entirely sure that he could get used to this life, this love and all of his friendships again.

* * *

Something soft and cold curled between Havoc's toes and the blond sprung awake; surprised by the sensation he'd long forgotten how to feel.

Roy was sitting at his feet, running his index finger between Jean's toes and along the arc of his foot. He'd taken off most of his uniform and was left in his dress shirt and pants. His jacket, hat and boots were on the floor next to him in a hastily arranged pile, and his attentions were fixed upon the way the blond's toes curled under the soft touch of his fingertip.

"Marcoh did a good job."

"Of course he did," the blond replied, kicking Roy's stomach gently, "You wouldn't have sent him if you didn't think he was good at what he does."

"You fell asleep... I'm sorry, I should have put you to bed."

"How were you to know?"

"Should have at least given you a blanket..."

"Roy, it's alright. Did you get everything out of the car?"

Roy nodded.

"The driver had another job to do, so he wasn't all that thrilled that I took so long."

"You should ring him up and have him fired for insulting the almighty Fuhrer."

"If I got people fired people on the grounds of foul moods then you would have been gone long ago."

"Oh, very funny."

"I know," Roy smirked, getting to his feet and looking more like a nervous child that Jean had ever seen before, "Do you mind if..."

"I don't know, after that comment... oh, come on Roy. I was kidding," Jean smiled, and opened his arms invitingly. Roy leaned down and hugged Jean close, pressing his lips softly against the blond's neck when he felt warm hands curling into his shirt.

"I missed you."

"I know."

Roy knew Jean didn't need to say anything more; the hands that were fisted into the material of his shirt were pulling him closer and speaking volumes, and although a part of him reflected that he'd rarely been willing to get too close to a person whether talking in physical or emotional terms, the end results were well worth it regardless.

"You're coming back to work for me."

"Hmm?"

"You're coming back to work for me, in the Fuhrer's office," Roy said against rough blond hair, "I had to officially enlist you as office staff, but..."

"Don't know how much use I'll be, Roy."

"Don't talk crap," Roy snorted, "If I thought you'd be of no use, I wouldn't have asked you to follow me eight years ago."

"I know," Jean replied, muffled as he dipped his tongue under the collar of Roy's shirt.

"You're employed as a member of the office staff, but I'll make sure that you regain the rank you previous held. I'll see what I can do about pay."

"You're Fuhrer, Roy. And you're a State Alchemist. I doubt you'll ever have to worry about money."

"I kept thinking this place would be less conspicuous than a mansion... judging by the flowers on the doorstep, I was wrong."

"They would have found you if you were living in some little hole of a cabin up in the cold north by yourself," Jean said, teeth scraping gently along the bottom of Roy's chin.

"Undoubtedly. Anyway, you start work in exactly a week. Hawkeye arranged it for me... while I was busy kissing babies and cutting ribbons, anyway. I wanted to give you time to settle down. For both of us to settle down."

"You're no fun when you're all serious like this," Jean grumbled, biting down firmly on Roy's earlobe, "Big Fuhrer in all."

"I plan on finishing here, and then I plan to put you to bed as I should have before."

"Will you be joining me?"

"Depends if you listen to me now."

"You drive a hard bargain. Now I know why Ed calls you 'Colonel Bastard'."

"'Fuhrer Bastard' now," Mustang smirked, "Fullmetal was absolutely thrilled by my promotion, as you witnessed earlier today."

"Oh, absolutely," Jean grinned, "Any other 'important' things you had to tell me?"

"You're paying half the rent."

"Bastard."

"_Fuhrer_ Bastard, thank you Jean."

"And after you worked so hard at making me call you Roy instead of Colonel."

Roy chuckled, and pressed a kiss to Jean's forehead.

"I don't really mind what you call me when we're here."

"Useless in the rain."

"Except that."

Jean tried to unsuccessfully muffle a yawn against the collar of Roy's shirt a little too late, and the older man pulled away, offering a hand that Jean accepted.

"Come on, bed."

"Not tired."

"Actions speak louder than words, and yours say otherwise."

"Not that tired..."

"Come on, let's get you out of those clothes... you've been in them for two days thanks to the incompetents on the train."

"Now you're talking."

"Your mind is constantly in the gutter, isn't it?"

"This coming from you, Roy."

Roy snorted and the blond grinned, sliding into his wheelchair once Roy had finished getting his fingers jammed in the hinges, trying to set it up.

"They need to think of how to modernize these things."

"It's alright," Jean replied, nodding when Roy grasped the handles of the chair and gave him a questioning look, "I can use crutches once I've gone and got some."

"So long as it doesn't tire you out."

"You sound like my mother, you know?"

"She'd smack you on the head if she heard you say that."

"Probably, but I don't have to worry about that right now."

Once they'd wrestled the chair through Roy's small bedroom door, and Roy had grumbled first about the scratches on the doorframe subtracting from his bond and then about 'anti-modernization' in the medical industry, the Fuhrer left his lover's chair near the side of the bed and turned back towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a pair of pyjamas out of your suitcase."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Jean said, voice husky as he squirmed around on the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it at Roy.

"Thank you for that," Roy grumbled, tugging the shirt away from his face and dropping it to the floor, "I didn't really want to assume..."

"Come on, Roy," Jean sighed and started working on his belt, bemused even now at the older man's efforts at playing innocent, "I've missed you. It's our first night together in two years. Do you think I'd be lying here waiting for you if I didn't have the intention of being with you? I won't break, and I don't want you to treat me like I will. Please, just come here. Don't be preoccupied with the ways things were... I'm here, I'm fine, I want to feel you. Please."

"Your mother's rubbing off on you, for you to say things like that," Roy grinned, walking over to the bed and sitting himself down squarely on Jean's waist, shivering when warm hands raced under his shirt and across his skin, "I missed you, Jean."

"Glad to hear it," the younger man murmured, hands coming out from their place between Roy's cotton shirt and pale skin to unbutton his lover's shirt, fingers fumbling clumsily over the buttons as he sacrificed efficiency for speed. When Roy had shrugged the material away, Jean's right hand closed softly over the back of Roy's neck, fingers raising gooseflesh across Roy's shoulders and arms as they smoothed lightly over skin, a stark contrast to the pressure the blond used as he pulled Roy down to kiss him.

* * *

"Edward, you really shouldn't have done this."

"I wanted to get you something to thank you for letting me stay in your apartment, but I couldn't think of anything else to get you."

"That's perfectly alright," Riza smiled warmly, accepting the small bouquet of plain white gardenia buds from Edward.

"I've never bought a girl a gift like this before..."

"You did well. I do love white gardenias. There was a cleaning girl who took a liking to Roy who used to leave them on his desk in the old office."

"I'm sure that Mustang appreciated it," Ed snorted.

"Not so much as you'd think. They used to wilt quickly because he never took care of them, and they made a mess of his desk... I can tell that you appreciated hearing that, Edward," Hawkeye added, watching the steadily growing smirk on Edward's face as she filled a jug with water for the flowers. The jug itself was a piece of Xingese pottery her grandfather had bought for her from a merchant from the country in the East, and was decorated with intricate characters that she couldn't begin to decipher. Once it was full, she removed the gardenias from the plastic they were wrapped in (fluorescent pink; far too bright for the delicate flowers it held) and placed them neatly in the jug.

"You like them, then?"

"Of course. Would you like some tea?"

"Thanks," Ed grinned.

As the pair was waiting for the water to boil in a comfortable silence, Black Hayate trotted out of one of the rooms down the hall, tail wagging when he noticed the houseguest seated at the kitchen table.

"Not gonna knock me over this time?" Ed questioned, and Black Hayate pushed his way under the table and put his head on the blond's knee, dribbling a little when Ed reached down to pat him.

"Yuck, this isn't much better."

"He likes you," Riza chuckled, bringing over the teapot. Ed waited for her as she returned to the kitchen for milk and sugar, and shook his head when Riza offered him the teapot first.

"Seriously, thanks for letting me stay here," Ed said, grinning awkwardly as Riza pre-emptively handed him an empty mug.

"It's perfectly fine," Riza smiled, pouring her own tea and adding a spoonful of sugar before handing the teapot to Ed. The man poured his tea and added a dash of milk before raising the cup to his lips, automail fingers making soft sounds against the glass teacup.

"How have you been?" Ed asked, jumping when Black Hayate sniffed at the back of his knee and whined softly for attention.

"I've been getting by... the office has been busier, obviously, but other than that it seems that everything has calmed down. How have you been? How are Alphonse and Winry?"

"Alphonse is... getting better. Doing a lot better, actually. This might sound kind of weird, but he's getting used to being flesh again. He keeps touching everything just to assure himself that he can feel it."

"That doesn't sound strange at all," Riza replied softly, shaking her head, "The past few years have resulted in too many casualties, and now that things seem to be calming down I think the both of you should be enjoying yourselves. And Alphonse deserves to be happy."

"He does," Ed nodded, placing his mug on the table and clenching his automail fist, "I'm glad that I helped him, but he still feels so sad about... well, I think he feels selfish for being restored while I still have automail. And I'd rather have my brother happy."

"The both of you are selfless. Al still wants to help you, but you would much rather have Al back before yourself. It's rare to see two people who care so much about one another, and it's a strength rather than a weakness; never let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Did Bradley...?"

"Yes, but it wasn't particularly effective, in that sense. From the way he would say things, I think he... misinterpreted the relationship between myself and Fuhrer Mustang."

Ed snorted, and briefly rested his hand on top of Riza's. The blonde woman jumped at the stark contrast of the tea in one hand and Ed's fingers against the other, but somehow the touch of her fingers against cold steel provided her with far more warmth than the beverage in her other hand.

"Mustang can screw around with whoever he wants for all I care, but Bradley, he..."

"Two years of waiting and patience can hardly be classified as 'screwing around', especially for those two. And as for Bradley? He did nothing that had a lasting emotional or physical effect on me. It meant nothing to me then, and even now it feels superfluous. I was too valuable as a tool used to manipulate Roy for him to kill me, or harm me," Riza smiled softly, fingers tightening around Ed's, "And you're showing how selfless you are again. You've grown up since I first met you six years ago, Edward."

Edward's face flushed a pale red and he avoided her eyes until he'd finished his tea. He put his mug down and muffled a cough with his flesh hand, but not quickly enough for Riza not to notice. Her eyes darkened with unspoken concern, and Edward coughed again.

"I'm sorry, you must be tired."

"I'm not the one who spent the last two nights on a train. I'll set up the spare bedroom for you. Hayate sleeps in there sometimes, but I can lock him out."

"No, that's alright. I'm sure he won't be any trouble," Ed said, standing up and stretching, "Thanks for doing this for me."

Riza smiled and got up to rinse out the empty mugs.

"Trust me when I say that you're the last person that needs to be thanking me for this, Edward."

She was rewarded with another slightly awkward blush, and she allowed herself a small smile as she turned away from him to turn on the tap.


	3. An Early Start

I actually finished this ages ago; just forgot to post it here. I still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

As per usual, Ed rose with the sun. It had become somewhat of a habit for him, after years of traveling and searching for the Philosopher's Stone he'd become accustomed to rising early to get the most out of the day and staying awake late into the night to talk to Al. Now, Al was still recuperating and needed constant rest, and while he was thankful to have his little brother restored to flesh, he missed those talks when the world seemed to shrink to contain just the two of them.

_"I'll have to call him today... I'm in Central for another four days. I won't call from Riza's phone, don't want to trouble her any more than I already have, I'll go out and find a payphone..."_

Ed was so involved in figuring out the best way to call his brother that he almost jumped when Riza knocked on his door and told him that breakfast was ready. After wondering vaguely why Riza was up so early, Ed slipped out of bed and almost stepped on Black Hayate, who was still snoozing peacefully on the rug on the floor. Ed foraged in the small suitcase next to his bed for fresh clothes, and the soft sounds of his moving around the room were enough to stir Hayate from his sleep. The dog watched Ed lazily with one eye open and yawned, standing up drowsily and following the man into the kitchen once Ed had found something he deemed presentable to wear.

"Sorry to wake you, but I didn't want you to have to bother digging something up for breakfast," Riza smiled, "All I've got is porridge or toast, I'm afraid."

"No, that's fine. I'm used to getting up early... but you really didn't have to bother with breakfast. I could have found something."

"It's not so much that I don't trust you to find something as much as there isn't much to find. I haven't been able to go shopping for a while, so I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel," Riza replied, placing the vase of flowers Edward had given her the night before in the center of the kitchen table. Ed grabbed the last chunk of bread from the paper bag on the kitchen counter, cut it in half and set both the slim pieces of toast on the electric toaster's grill to cook.

Riza sat down at the table with her small bowl of porridge and single slice of toast and started eating; she was already in uniform aside from her jacket, which was hanging over the back of her chair, the extra stars to show her new rank of Captain already sewn onto the shoulders with perfect finesse. Her hair was already clipped tightly into its usual style, but it was visibly damp. Ed checked his toast to make sure it wasn't burning, and then glanced at the clock on the wall; it was barely six in the morning.

"I didn't know you had to get up this early to get to the office," Edward started, still feeling slightly awkward around the older woman.

"I don't, usually," Riza replied, pausing to blow softly on a spoonful of porridge to cool it, "But I suggested to Fuhrer Mustang that it would be best to get an early start on the papers he has to sign as Fuhrer. It's been a week since this country had a person in power, and no doubt that there will be a backlog of things for him to read over."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy that," Ed snickered.

"I'm sure he'll be just as thrilled to hear that you'll be taking pleasure in his frustration."

"I don't have to show up to headquarters, do I?" Ed asked, simultaneously switching the toaster off at the wall and grabbing the two slices of toast off the grill with his automail hand.

"I wouldn't think so."

"Well, would you mind if I went out and wandered around for a bit?" Ed asked, buttering his toast and taking a bite.

"No, not at all," Riza smiled, scraping the edges of her bowl for the last of her porridge, "There's a spare key in the first drawer of the kitchen counter. Just make sure you don't let Hayate out; he usually comes back when you call, but just to be careful..."

"I'll make sure," Ed grinned, taking another bite of his toast. Riza finished her porridge and then looked at the clock.

"I'd better get going," she said, grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair and shrugging it on, "Will you be hungry after finishing those two slices?"

"Yeah, but are you sure you'll be okay until lunch?"

"Thank you for your concern, Edward, but I'll be fine," Riza smiled, leaving her single slice of toast on the table, "You can take the chair if you want."

"Thank you. I mean, for everything," Ed added belatedly, and he quashed the heat rising to his face stubbornly.

"My pleasure. I'll be back around seven o'clock."

Riza opened her front door and said goodbye to Hayate before she stepped out of the apartment and shut the door behind her. Hayate stood at the door for a moment, as if expecting his master to come straight back, and then slunk back to the table to rest his muzzle on Ed's knee. The blond man reached down to scratch the pup's ears, and all of a sudden he realized just how much his life had settled down in the last few months, compared to the last six years of hardships. Al was restored, and they were living back with Winry in the small room that they had shared when they'd needed to go back to Risembool to have maintenance done on his automail.

"Hey, you know..." Ed mumbled vaguely, tearing off a small piece of crust to give to Hayate, "It almost seems weird that I don't have to get up every day and run after the next lead on the Stone... seems weird that I could probably live normally from now on..."

Hayate took the piece of bread crust Edward offered, swallowed it whole, and wagged his tail against the man's leg contentedly.

* * *

Havoc looked over his shoulder at Roy, who was cursing loudly and holding a piece of toilet paper on his face; his hair was still damp and he was wearing nothing but a dark towel, but at this point in time Jean was more amused that shaving didn't appear to be one of Mustang's talents.

"Cut yourself again, Boss?"

"Yes, thank you very much for your concern."

"It's a shaving cut. It won't kill you."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"Anytime," Jean couldn't help but be amused by Mustang's frustration, but refrained from saying anything more and went back to washing his hair.

"You're going to need my help to get out of that bathtub, so unless you want to sit and soak all day..."

"You're just grouchy because Riza's making you clock in early," the blond man grinned, "And I won't need any help. I know when I need help."

"If you slipped, Marcoh's good work wouldn't be for much. And I'd have to live with the guilt. And your mother."

"Yeah, Ma would probably have you drawn and quartered, Chief," Havoc replied, and he sounded so serious that Roy almost shuddered.

"Are you almost done?"

"Yeah. Are you going to help me get out?"

"I thought you said..."

"I said I'd ask for help when I needed it," Jean looked over his shoulder and grinned at Roy. The older man couldn't come up with a reply to this, so he simply smiled back.

"I suppose you did."

"Well, shall we?"

Roy nodded and tugged on his dark bathrobe before dropping the towel he was wearing around his waist and putting it on the closed lid of the toilet. Leaning down and sliding his arms around the blond's torso and under his arms, Roy looked at Jean in question.

"Ready?"

"Yes, Sir," Jean grinned, before using as much strength as he could gather in his left leg to swing it over the side of the bath and sit up while Roy hoisted him up and managed to get them both to standing height.

"Right," the dark-haired man grunted, stumbling a little under Havoc's weight, "Now the other one."

Jean nodded and carefully lifted his right leg over the side of the bath; it was easier this time, with Roy supporting most of his weight, but he wanted to get it over with as quickly as he could, because he could tell Roy wouldn't be able to support him much longer. Jean felt his heel slide off the edge of the porcelain and Roy carried him over to the toilet, sat him down on the covered lid and made sure he was comfortable before moving away.

"Good?" Roy questioned, sounding out of breath.

"Yeah," Jean grinned, "You got any extra towels?"

"I only own about six," Roy snorted, before disappearing around the door and coming back a moment later with an extra towel. He tossed to Jean from the doorway and then disappeared around the door again while his lover dried off.

"You're running late, Roy."

"I'm sure Hawkeye will forgive me this one time, Jean," Roy replied, and Jean saw him toss his uniform jacket onto the bed.

"You should be thankful that you have her around," Havoc replied, toweling at his hair, "Doubt anyone else has the dedication to put up with you."

"Thank you," Roy replied, sitting down on the bed to do up the buttons on his shirt.

Jean folded the towel over his lap and waited for Roy to finish getting into his uniform, and tried to figure out the best day he could go to the hospital and get new crutches. Roy returned, clothed in the full dress uniform, complete right down to the polished medals on his chest pocket. Havoc was so enthralled with giving Roy a sarcastic look that he didn't notice that Roy had dragged his wheelchair to the doorway.

"I'm going to be exhausted before I get to the office at this rate," Roy murmured, a small smile quirking his lips.

"Sorry, Boss."

"Don't be ridiculous, Havoc," the older man replied, "Take that towel off your lap for a moment while I move you."

Jean did as he was told, and Roy once again slid his arms under Havoc's and hoisted him up. The blond's feet slid over the tiles looking for purchase, but Roy was thankfully able to get him to the chair before his feet gave way.

"Sorry..." Havoc started again, but was silenced by Roy's lips on his.

"Shut up," Roy said as he pulled away to grab the towel, "There's nothing for you to be sorry for."

He tossed the towel back to Havoc, and the blond put it over his lap gratefully.

"You'd better get going."

"I know. Try to be clothed by midday."

"Big ask, Sir," Havoc snorted, moving to dig around in one of his suitcases for clothes.

"I'm sure," Roy replied, grabbing his overcoat, "You'll be fine?"

"You're not my mother, Sir."

"I'll take that as a yes," Roy replied, pocketing his house keys, "I'm going."

"See you this afternoon," Jean grinned, and Roy offered a brief smile in return before walking out of the bedroom, grabbing a pile of papers from the kitchen table and rushing out the front door.

* * *

No matter how many times people insisted that Mustang would be a good leader to the country, seeing that bastard smirking up at him from all the morning papers was almost enough to make Ed physically ill. Then again, he could remember back to when Pinako first brought Den home as a present for Winry; they used to put newspaper down so the dog wouldn't leave a mess on the floor. Smirking back at the smug face staring up at him from the newsstand, Edward started wonder _just_ how well Riza had housetrained Hayate.

Picking up a copy of the paper and handing the money to a bemused-looking salesman, Ed stuck it under his arm and continued with his perusal of Central City; it really hadn't changed much since the last time he had been here, except now that bastard had control of the place and already the air of the entire city had an undeniably self-gratifying feel about it. Ed snorted and scrunched the edge of the newspaper up with his fist.

He habitually took a left at the next corner; in the old days, it would have been in order to go to Central Headquarters, but the only thing he noticed this time was the phone booth at the end of the street, on the next corner. Ed had intended on calling his younger brother sometime today, and he certainly didn't want to impose on Riza any more than he already had. Digging around in his pocket for change, Ed stepped into the booth, jammed a few coins into the slot and dialed the ever-familiar number for the Rockbell prosthetics shop.

Winry answered, and Ed felt like he was home.

"Winry, it's me."

"Ed? Has something happened?"

"No, nothing like that... I just wanted to talk to Al."

"He's still asleep," Winry replied, and Ed almost felt his spirits drop, "I can wake him up if it's urgent..."

"No, it's alright. He needs all the rest he can get," Ed sighed, "I'll be home in four days anyway."

"Ed, don't worry. He's fine," Winry stated, voice even, "Now, do you have Miss Riza's phone number? If you really want to talk to him, I can get him to call you back when he's awake."

"I'd appreciate it," Ed grinned, digging around in his pocket for his travelogue and flipping to the page with Riza's contact details on it. He recited the number carefully, and Winry recited it back to him twice at his request.

"Ed, stay safe, alright?" Winry said once Ed was satisfied that the number was right.

"Huh? Why would you have any need to worry?"

"No reason... trouble just has a habit of finding you, you know."

"I'll be careful," Ed grumbled, "See you soon, Winry."

"See you soon," Winry responded, and Ed heard the phone hang up at the other end of the line. He placed the receiver back in its cradle and sighed, still vaguely aware of the paper tucked under his arm. Sighing, he exited the booth and started back the way he came; it wasn't all that far back to Riza's apartment. Like all the other elements of her life, she'd decided it was best to have a house close to her work.

On his way back to the apartment, Ed glared at some more newsstands and dodged what seemed like thousands of giggling children who acted like they should be kept on leashes. Digging around in his pocket for the spare key Riza had left for him, Ed patted an enthusiastic Black Hayate as he opened the door, and after shutting it behind him flopped down on the same chair he'd been sitting at that morning for breakfast. Unfurling the crumpled paper that had been beneath his arm, Edward tossed the front page, featuring a superior-looking Mustang wearing his new uniform and rank with pride to Hayate, who immediately started tearing strips off it. He'd have to clean it up before Riza got home, but it was worth it.

The next page was a short piece on the bastard's early life. Delighting in the fact that he now knew that Mustang's middle name was Donald, Edward tossed the page to the floor, and Hayate pounced on it happily.

The next page was a great picture of the Fuhrer as a new recruit. The next was of a young but tired looking Mustang in uniform, probably recently returned from Ishvar judging by the date of the photo. The next was a photo was a picture of him and all his subordinates in his old office at East Headquarters. Jeez, did he ever smile in photos aside from the times when the whole country was metaphorically circle jerking over him?

Snorting, Ed tossed the gutted newspaper down on the table. He skimmed over some of the smaller stories on the next few pages, and his eyes fell to a small article at the corner of the page.

_**Threat To Central Station**  
_

_Yesterday, it was alleged that the staff at Central Train Station received bomb threats by phone sometime between midday and five o'clock. The head of the station has dismissed this as a 'groundless threat', and as a 'joke'._

_"We've searched the entire station, and have found nothing."_

_Security was high yesterday around Central City as Fuhrer Roy Mustang's induction took place. Both the police and the military have refused to comment on the alleged threat._

Ed skimmed the rest of the article idly, and then turned to an article about the advances in technology that could see Amestris having air travel within ten years. Hayate lay on the floor, happily tearing holes in Mustang's face. Ed grinned, and leaned over to pet the dog's ears.

"Keep at it, boy. We'll be thinking on the same level in no time."

* * *

"You expected I would be mad, Sir?"

"Not really," Mustang sighed, scribbling his signature on a few papers and handing them back to his adjutant.

"I'd already figured that you would walk into this unprepared, Sir," Hawkeye smiled and filed the papers.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know where you are now doesn't cater to Havoc's needs, Sir."

"He'll improve."

"Yes, he will," Riza replied, "But it will take time. Also, from what you've told me the public already knows where you are staying. You aren't safe there, Sir."

"I know," he sighed, "But at the moment the compound where every other Fuhrer of the country has stayed isn't livable, as you very well know."

"I know, Fuhrer. But even then, it isn't made for Havoc's needs right now."

"I'll have to deal with this later," Roy said evenly, and Riza, "So, has Fullmetal behaved himself?"

"Edward is fine," Riza started, biting her lip, "I think he already misses Alphonse and Winry."

"Stands to reason."

"I'm glad he's settled down, actually. That was no life for a child."

"He's an adult now," Mustang said, tapping his fingers lightly on his desk.

"He had so much responsibility to bear as a child, so it's only fair that he should settle as an adult. But he still has a lot to learn."

"We all do," Roy sighed again, "Now, onto more important matters. Have any reports on those bomb threats been submitted yet?"

"They're investigating them," Hawkeye replied, flicking through some files, eventually withdrawing a single sheet of paper and handing it to Mustang, "It's a big job, Sir. They're going as fast as they can."

"Tell them to submit reports as soon as they are complete," "Mustang said, and Hawkeye saluted, "I won't let anyone or anything take me down from the top."

"They won't, Sir," Riza said, saluting once more and leaving the room.

* * *

**End of Chapter Three**

Not bad, considering how much I struggled with this chapter. Also, there is method to the madness behind Roy's middle name; Roy itself means 'king', and Donald actually means 'leader'.

Reviews would be appreciated.


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